


My Heart is a Kaleidoscope

by wallhaditcoming



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Angst, Brainwashing, M/M, Memory Loss, Protectiveness, References to Past Child Abuse, Secret Identity, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallhaditcoming/pseuds/wallhaditcoming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier was just a grad student desperately working towards his PhD until he rescued a cat from off the streets. A talking cat named Moira.  Now he spends his nights running around in shorts and a tiara punishing the Dark Kingdom's forces in the name of the moon.</p><p>Erik Lehnsherr remembers just enough of his past life to make him very, very angry.  Sworn to avenge the love he lost, he dons a mask and fights King Shaw's forces.  When Sailor Moon appears, he becomes conflicted, torn between the love he lost and his attraction to Charles.</p><p>A Cherik Sailor Moon fusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea occurred to me awhile ago, and I've been writing bits and pieces of it on and off all summer. Updates will be sporadic, and I'm not even sure anyone else is at all interested, but I figured if it amused me to write it, it might amuse other people to read it. If that is the case, please let me know, as I feel very foolish for putting this up at all.

“My goodness. These are rather on the short side, aren’t they?” Charles asked, alternating between staring down at himself and checking his reflection in the mirror while he tugged at the edge of the shorts in an attempt to give himself a little more coverage. It was a vain attempt. “And aren’t they a bit…snug?”

“You should be thankful it was shorts at all. It could just as easily have been a mini-skirt,” the cat, Moira, replied smugly.

Charles took in his refection once again, staring in disbelief at the outfit that had appeared in place of his clothes. His shorts were a deep blue that matched the trim on short sleeves and collar of what he could only describe as a sailor suit. The flowing sash around his waist also had the same sort of trim, and the fabric matched the red tie hanging around his neck, which in turn coordinated with the ends of the gloves that terminated at his elbow, as well as the boots had appeared on his feet. The brooch sat on his sash where a buckle would sit on a belt, and a tiara completed the ensemble.

A tiara.

“You cannot be serious!” Charles shouted, rounding on the cat. “A tiara?!”

“Mini. Skirt,” the cat reminded him.

“Fine. Tell me what I have to do so I can hurry up and do it and get out of this bloody thing and back to my thesis.”

This was how Charles found himself staring down a creature that had taken the shape of a dear friend’s mother, making a gesture he’d never even conceived before, let alone memorized, and promising to punish someone in the name of the moon.

It was possibly the third most ridiculous thing he had done in his life.

Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to fight the creature. Surely there was a reason for its actions? It’s presence here? But when he asked, the being just laughed and ordered the brainwashed patrons to attack him. And if Charles couldn’t attack a bizarre creature from what he could only assume was outer space or an alternate dimension, he certainly couldn’t bring himself to attack people who were not acting of their own free will.

Charles was backed against the wall, trying desperately to think of a solution to his problem and moments away from doom at the hand of a rather impressive set of fingernails when the sudden appearance of a violently thrown rose stopped them all in their tracks.

Charles quickly calculated the trajectory and followed it backwards. Framed dramatically in an open window stood a masked man, gloved hand still raised from the end of his throw. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a purple vest and shirt, a long flowing cape with red lining, and a top hat. It should have looked ridiculous. On the tall, attractive, slightly older man it really didn’t.

Rather the opposite, actually. But Charles was going to stop that train of thought before it got out of the station, because his ridiculous shorts left nothing to the imagination.

“Who are you?” the monster snapped furiously.

“I am Tuxedo Mask,” he answered, completely collected, and dear lord, was that a hint of an accent Charles detected in his voice? “Sailor Moon, now is no time for cowardice.”

At that, Charles felt his hackles raise. “It’s not cowardice. There are civilians everywhere! And I’m rather new at this whole thing, so pardon me for being out of sorts!”

Tuxedo Mask leapt down from his windowsill perch with ease and grace. As soon as he had his feet underneath him, he drew a cane out from under his cape and ran at the monster.

“If you ever change your mind about attacking,” Moira offered, “just take off your headpiece and shout ‘Moon Tiara Magic’.”

Charles stared down at the cat. “Are you serious.” It wasn’t even a question.

Moira glared at him in response.

Charles rolled his eyes, and in doing so caught sight of his rescuer battling the monster, and while the man was clearly handling it just fine on his own, Charles figured that the least he could do was offer his assistance. Using his newly gained ability to jump ridiculous distances, he cleared the mass of hypnotized people and landed gracefully beside Tuxedo Mask.

“Can I lend a hand?”

“Be my guest,” the masked man said with a small smirk.

Charles, unable to believe he was actually about to do what he was about to do, took the tiara off his head. It glowed in the palm of his hand, flattening and floating, and he brought his arm back.

“Moon Tiara Magic!” he shouted, flinging the glowing projectile at the monster.

His aim was true. With a threat and a scream of rage, the monster exploded into dust.

“Well…” Charles said, staring at the scene before him, absentminded taking the tiara that had floated back to him and replacing it on his head. “That…did I really do that?”

“Yes, you did. I must say, it’s much cleaner than when I do it. And faster too,” Tuxedo Mask offered. “Well done, Sailor Moon,” he called as he leapt back up to the window.

“Wait!” Charles called, and Tuxedo Mask did, pausing in the frame. “Why…why did you help me?”

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Consider it a thank you.”

“What for?” Charles asked. “If anyone should be thanking anyone, I should be thanking you.”

“For something you don’t remember,” he said, his expression too subtle for Charles to make out at this distance, “and something I’m trying to. Until we meet again,” Tuxedo Mask tipped his hat.

Then he was gone.

‘Oh dear,’ Charles thought, staring at the now empty window, ‘I might be in trouble’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you all thought this story was going to be fluffy and ridiculous, didn't you? So did I. Then I switched to Erik's POV.

_There is a sword hanging at his hip and a cloak hanging from his shoulders and a man in his arms who he loves more than his own life._

_“Shaw and his army are coming,” he says into his love’s temple before pulling him even closer.  “They’re going to attack this Kingdom, attack you…” his arms tighten involuntarily._

_“Oh my love,” the Prince responds, resting his cheek against his chest._

_“I will stop them.  I **will**_ _protect you,” he swears._

_And now the sword is in his hands and he is watching his love, the Moon Prince, being surrounded, overwhelmed by enemy forces.  But he is surrounded by his guardians, the Sailor Soldiers, and they fight to keep him safe._

_But then Shaw is there, and the Sailor Soldiers fight, but they fall.  Shaw slays them one by one as they give everything to protect his Prince, to protect his love._

_And he’s there, but it’s too late.  Shaw has…the Prince is…_

_He holds his love in his arms as the Prince slips away, and the heir to the Moon Kingdom’s last words are of love._

_The Prince from Earth breaks inside._

_Shaw has stabbed him before he has a chance to reach for his sword, and there is an overwhelming sense of relief.  Because his life was over the moment his love died._

_His only regret, he thinks as his vision leaves him, is that Shaw lives on._

Erik jerked awake with a gasp.  Again.  That dream again.

He tossed the covers off and threw his legs over the side of the bed.  His elbows resting on his thighs, he let his face fall into his hands, rubbing in an attempt to clear his head.  Every night for months now, memories of his past life had been filtering in through his dreams.  He had no doubt they were resurfacing now because of Shaw.  This time, Erik vowed, this time he would have his revenge.

Still, if he was to be plagued by these dreams every night, he would like to, at the very least, be able to remember his beloved’s face.  It didn’t seem like too much to ask.

He’d been fighting Shaw’s monsters as Tuxedo Mask for weeks now.  Running into a Sailor Soldier had been a surprise.  A…painful one, but…they’d died for him.  They’d died trying to protect the Prince of the Moon.  The least Erik could do was watch over him as a thank you.

The Sailor Soldier had looked familiar, and in the free moments littered throughout his day at his engineering firm, he tried to place the face he could have sworn he had seen before.  Still, he did his best to place his concerns aside as he made his way to the park.  Specifically to the chess tables.  Normally he didn’t make the trip more than once a week, but yesterday’s match had been…invigorating.  His opponent had kept him on his toes.  He was hoping to challenge him again, and if he wanted a chance at victory, he’d need all his mind focused on the game.

He felt his lips twist in a rare smile when he finally arrived.  Yesterday’s opponent was there, waiting at an empty chess board.

“Care for a rematch?” Erik inquired as he reached the table.

Brilliant blue eyes looked up from under floppy brown hair and a red mouth parted in a ridiculously wide smile.  “I was rather hoping for one, actually.”

It took all of Erik’s self-control to remain outwardly nonchalant.  This man here was the Sailor Soldier from last night.  Sailor Moon.

Erik slid into the seat across from his opponent (in chess only).  “I don’t believe I introduced myself yesterday.  I’m Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Charles Xavier,” the man across the table responded with another wide grin.  “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing at the board.

That day, Erik lost.  And that night, he fought at Sailor Moon’s side against the monsters and won.

“Tuxedo Mask,” Sailor Moon asked as he replaced his tiara, “Why…why are you doing this?”

Erik was grateful that the mask hid his eyes, but still pretended not to understand, hoping that perhaps the other man would allow the subject to drop.  “I told you yesterday, Sailor Moon.  Are you that forgetful?”

“Not helping me…but, you’ve been fighting these monsters far longer than I have.  Why?”

Erik leaned back against a nearby pillar, fixing his eyes on the moon.  “Shaw…the King these monsters serve...I have _business_ with him,” Erik said, thankful that his gloves prevented his nails from digging into his palms.

Sailor Moon just looked at him, eyes wide, silently egging him on.

“Revenge,” Erik found himself elaborating, but cut himself off before he could say anything else.  Damn those blue eyes.  Determined to end with the upper hand, he leaned in close and whispered, “You might wish to invest in a mask, Charles.  Your looks are rather distinctive.”

Erik laughed at the other man gaped, blue eyes widening in surprise.  “Until we meet again!” he called over his shoulder before leaping towards home.

He needed his rest.  After all, he had a chess match to win come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad to see that so many of you are enjoying this. I hope you continue to do so. Anyway, this is the end of what I have written chronologically, so the next chapter might take a bit of time. I would love to hear what you all think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd and long overdue, but nearly twice the usual length to try and make up for it. Happy Tuesday!

Charles missed the days when the only thing he was worried about was his thesis.  These days, between his duties as a TA, doing research for both his thesis and for Moira, and running around in shorts at night and throwing his tiara at things like a Frisbee, he was lucky to get any sleep at all.

“You look like death warmed over,” Erik commented as Charles eased himself into the seat across from him for their daily chess game.

“Thank you for that,” Charles said, wincing as he accidentally jostled one of the multitude of bruises he’d collected over the course of the past two weeks.

Erik’s eyebrows shot up.  “Rough night?” he asked with a smirk.

Charles let out a desperate, slightly hysterical laugh, stopping only when he saw Erik’s concerned expression.

“I’ve joined an ultimate Frisbee team,” Charles told him, struck with inspiration.

Erik looked at him in silence for a moment before bursting into laughter.  Charles chided him, but it was halfhearted.  Erik was usually so serious, often looking almost world weary.  Charles got the impression that, much like himself, Erik’s only diversion was these daily chess games.  To see him letting go, smiling, _laughing_ …it was a nice change.

He was beautiful when he laughed, Charles found himself thinking.

“With all that wincing, you must not be very good,” Erik said at last, still chuckling.

“Oh, hush you.  I’ll get better.”

“Just…promise me you’ll be careful, will you?  It looks like the other team likes to play rough.”  The playfulness had vanished, replaced with a level of concern that Charles found surprising.

“I promise,” Charles said sincerely, resting his hand briefly on Erik’s in an attempt at reassurance, only to have the man pull away.  Charles tried not to let it sting, instead endevoring to return the conversation to its lighter tone. “Now, I believe we come here to play chess, not to comment on my poor life choices.”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Erik asked with his shark's grin.

Charles lost that day.  Rather spectacularly.  When he demanded a rematch, Erik simply sent him home with an order to get some sleep.

Charles ignored him, of course.  He had entirely too much to do to be sleeping.  Instead he dragged himself back to campus, where, on the way to the biology department, he ran headfirst into a lanky young man.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized profusely, pulling himself up and ignoring the pain he was experiencing in favor of helping the poor boy gather his things.   “I do hope I haven’t done any irreparable damage, to either you or your things.  You are alright, yes?”

The young man, who couldn’t have been more than twenty, rose to his full height, a little over six feet, “Yes, I’m unharmed.  But my notes…”

Charles glanced down at the papers in his arms, checking to ensure that they were undamaged, only to have his eyebrows raise when he saw precisely what was written on them.  “This is…my goodness, these are remarkable.  Are you an undergrad here?”

“Graduate student, actually,” he replied, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses so they sat straight once again.

“You’re what?  Twenty?” Charles asked, the surprise he was feeling coloring his voice.

“Eighteen, actually,” the man corrected, shoulders hunching and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Marvelous!” Charles said, smiling widely.  “I’m sorry, how terribly rude of me.  Charles Xavier.  I’m a graduate student in the biology department,” he said, holding out a hand.

The man took it and shook it, his grasp tentative.  “Hank McCoy.  Engineering.”

“Bit of a physics man myself,” Charles said with a grin.  “My undergrad was in biophysics.  And these,” he said, pointing down to the papers he had collected from off the ground, “are just incredible.”

“Thank you,” Hank said.  “Perhaps…” he began tentatively, hand reaching for his glasses again.  “That is…I haven’t been here very long, and…I’ve had some questions, lately, about genomes and…”

“I would be more than happy to answer any questions you might have, no matter the subject area.  Do you have time for a coffee now?” Charles asked brightly, cheered by both the thought of intellectual conversation and caffeine.

Hank beamed at the invitation, but then checked his watch and abruptly turned downcast.  “I would love to, Mr. Xavier, but I have work.  Tutoring, at that new place on Main street.  But…another time?”

“Of course, Hank,” Charles said with a smile.  “Please, do go on.  I wouldn’t want you to be late on my account.”

It wasn’t until Charles was unlocking the door to the room where his desk was that he realized he was still clutching Hank’s papers.

“Bugger,” he muttered to himself.

He could simply look Hank up in the directory and drop them off with his advisor, but if Hank had been taking them with him, there was a good chance the boy needed them tonight.  He’d simply drop by Hank’s work and leave them for him there.

The building was easy to find, he was relieved to see, but all that relief vanished abruptly when he saw Moira sitting out front, staring at the advertisement contemplatively.

“Please tell me you’re not here because…” Charles began, only to have the cat cut him off at the pass.

“I can sense a monster here.  And something else…” her nose scrunched up in what Charles had learned was the equivalent of a human furrowing their brow.

“Charles,” a familiar voice said from behind him, the tone exasperated.  “I thought I told you to get some sleep?”

Charles glanced down at Moira in a panic.  Had Erik heard her speaking?  He turned around quickly, stepping between them and laughing uneasily.

“There is no rest for the wicked, my friend.  Or the graduate student.”

“Was there someone else here?” Erik asked, glancing around in confusion.

“No,” Charles said, trying not to panic.  Moira chose that moment to weave between his legs, meowing obnoxiously as if to say ‘look at me!  I’m just a cat!  Doing cat things!  Nothing suspicious to see here!’

Erik’s gaze zeroed in on Moira, brow furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Charles, expression unreadable.

“Hank!” Charles remembered suddenly. 

Hank was trapped inside with a monster.  And Charles was outside making small talk.  He called a goodbye over his shoulder before running into the building, taking the stairs two at a time.

He threw the door open, and it was just as bad as he had feared.  The students were collapsed in front of their computers.  Hank was standing beside one, the expression on his face panicked as he shook the student by the shoulder.  The only person who remained unaffected was the supervisor standing in the front of the room.

“Hank, run!” Charles shouted, running to stand between the younger man as the monster began to drop its human disguise.

He didn’t check to see if Hank had followed his instructions; there wasn’t time.  Instead, he called out “Moon Prism Power, Make Up!”  letting the bizarre feeling of material disappearing and rematerializing wash over his skin, and was disheartened to discover that the sensation was becoming familiar.

Once he’d gone through his usual spiel, the majority of his attention was focused on dodging projectiles, though they vanished as soon as he answered a ridiculously easy question about gravity.  When the monster became aware that this tactic wouldn’t work, it instead did the one thing Charles dreaded above all others – it turned the brainwashed masses against him.

Hank and the monster were exchanging words, but he couldn’t sacrifice enough concentration to make out what those words were.  Charles needed to figure out how to solve this problem.

He couldn’t use the tiara on them.  They were innocent bystanders.  Yet if he did nothing, he would be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes.   Avoidance, then, was the order of the day.  Avoid and pray he could take a shot at the monster before things got desperate.

He couldn’t.

 “Mercury Power,” Hank suddenly shouted, his words cutting through Charles’ panic, “Make Up!”

Hank was clad in a sailor suit, just like Charles.  His shorts were a powder blue, his shoes were more sensible, he had no sash, and there wasn’t a trace of any color save blue on him, but it was undeniably a uniform, and one that was meant to match Charles’ own.

Charles' immediate reaction was relief, followed quickly by a rush of guilt.  Charles didn’t want to force problems he could barely handle onto a boy who was only just legally made a man.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.  They would get out of this situation, and then they would sort this all out.

Hank’s bubble spray was exactly what he needed to escape from danger while leaving his attackers unscathed, and then a simple throw of his tiara turned the monster to dust.

Panting, he shot Hank a triumphant smile that turned sheepish at the completely baffled expression on they boy's face. Before he could try and explain, there was a sound at the door, and Charles rounded on the new threat, tiara still in hand.  When he saw the tuxedo-clad figure in the doorway, he let out a sigh of relief.

“I see I’ve missed the party,” Tuxedo Mask said as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Well, that’s what happens when you aren’t prompt,” Charles told him with a grin as he returned his tiara to its proper place.

“Who’s this?” Hank asked, radiating nervous energy.

“How rude of me.  Tuxedo Mask, this is Sailor Mercury.  Sailor Mercury, this is Tuxedo Mask.  He’s a friend.”

“You’re far too trusting, Sailor Moon.  An ally, perhaps,” Tuxedo Mask replied with a smirk.

“The enemy of my enemy,” he replied with a grin.

“Well, until that enemy comes again,” he tipped his hat before leaping away, cape flowing dramatically behind him.

“That was…” Hank visibly struggled to find the correct words.

“Come now.  Some tea would do you good, I think.  And I did promise to answer your questions, no matter the subject.  That applies to the surreal as well.”

“I can’t imagine things could get much more surreal than a monster and a talking cat,” Hank offered with a weak attempt at a smile.

Charles patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.  “Oh, my friend.  Unfortunately, you’ve only just begun to scratch the surface.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's after two here, and I haven't had anyone look this over, so I'm sure it's riddled with errors, but it's also nearly 2200 words long. I hope you enjoy.

The interesting thing, Erik mused while waiting for Charles to arrive, was that he had no idea who the other soldiers were.  Neither Mercury nor Mars wore masks (and frankly, if Charles didn’t get himself one soon, Erik was going to bring an extra and shove it on his face), yet their identities still remained unknown.  Erik didn’t really care who they were, so long as they kept Charles safe.

And fought the Dark Kingdom’s forces.  Obviously.

Erik looked up as the bell over the door rang and smiled softly at what he saw.  The man was facing the opposite direction, but there was only one man those grey slacks and blue cardigan could belong to.  If Erik didn’t spend the majority of his nights watching Charles jump around in nothing but a pair of obscenely tight shorts and a very well fitted top, he wouldn’t have had any idea of the well-defined muscles that hid underneath the man’s day-to-day clothing.  For the most part, Erik was glad of it.  Without the adrenaline of a life-or-death situation to keep him focused, he doubted it would be good for his concentration.  Sometimes even then it was too much for him.

“Charles,” Erik called softly, “over here.”

Erik looked up just long enough to ascertain he had been heard before turning his attention to the board, making sure every piece was in its proper place.

“I got your text,” the familiar voice said as it approached.  “Good thinking, moving inside.  It looks like the sky is going to open up at any moment.”

Erik glanced up, sarcastic comment dying on his lips.  He pushed back his chair and stood, taking a step forward.  He reached out and grasped Charles by the chin, tilting his face so that the overhead fluorescents illuminated the long gash across Charles’ cheek and the dark blue and purple of a blossoming bruise on his cheekbone.

“What happened?” Erik asked softly.

Last night.  It had to have been last night.  He’d thought, with the three of them, there would be no problem, and so hadn’t been concerned when he’d felt the sharp headache that meant a monster had revealed itself, nor the tugging in his chest that meant Charles had transformed while he met with a client out of town.  Mercury was intelligent, and Mars was powerful and aggressive.  He’d thought it would be fine.  He thought it _had_ been fine.

“Ultimate Frisbee.  We’ve got more players, but we’re all inexperienced and still working on the whole team aspect of things.  It looks worse that it is,” Charles said with some difficulty around Erik’s grip on his jaw.

The fact that it was there at all made Erik’s jaw clench and his chest tighten.  Still, he raised an eyebrow and brushed his finger along the bruise to prove a point, watching with distress as Charles flinched at even the gentlest touch.

Apparently Erik couldn’t trust the other soldiers to keep Charles safe.  He would have to do it himself.

 “Were we playing chess today?” Charles asked, his voice strained, and Erik could feel his pulse rushing under his fingers, “or were you just going to stare at my bruise?”

Kissing Charles would be easy like this.  All it would take was a tilt of the head, a slight lean and his lips would be pressed against Charles’. 

Erik hadn’t realized he had leaned forward until he saw the motion reflected in Charles’ eyes, impossibly blue at this distance, and Erik could see how wide his pupils were.

Erik took three steps backward and lowered his hand, still raised from where it had been pressed against Charles skin moments before.

“Playing chess,” Erik said, his mouth suddenly dry.

Charles stared at him for a long moment before sinking into the seat at the opposite side of the board, and Erik followed his lead, grateful for the physical barrier of the table between them.

They played in charged silence, though not for long.  Charles and uncomfortable situations never coexisted for any length of time.

“Have you seen the news lately?” Charles asked, smiling up at Erik as though nothing had happened.  “The Sailor Scouts.  This Sailor V character in particular.  I wonder…”

“You wonder?” Erik asked, moving his rook.

“Well, why now?  There have been an increased number of…let’s call them unnatural incidents, shall we?  An increased number of unnatural incidents locally, but _only_ locally.  And the Sailor Scouts are found only in this area.  So, are the unnatural incidents occurring locally because the Sailor Scouts are here, or are the Sailor Scouts here because they are occurring locally?”

That was simple.  Erik had watched the process happen.  “The Sailor Soldiers were reactionary, clearly.”

“If that’s the case, then why were there so many incidents to begin with?  What put the Scouts in a position to be here?” Charles’ brow was furrowed.  “What is drawing them all to this place?”

Erik leaned back, contemplative.  It hadn’t occurred to him to wonder before.  He’d been too busy dealing with his enemies to wonder why they were around.

“Unless, of course, they aren’t being drawn here,” Charles said, staring off into space.  “And we only know about the unnatural incidents because the involvement of the Sailor Scouts brings it to light.”

Erik’s blood ran cold at the thought.  Charles’ expression was equally troubled before he shook his head and let out a slightly strained laugh.

“Forgive me, my friend. I’ve been mulling some things over in light of recent events.”

The discovery of Mars, obviously.  And it was an excellent point.  Perhaps they were all being attracted by each other?  Being reborn because they were needed, and they were needed together?

“Anyway, I think people are getting slightly ridiculous about the whole phenomenon, regardless,” Charles continued.  “Did you know that there was a letter sent to every graduate student on my campus, supposedly from Tuxedo Mask?”

“What?” Erik snapped in surprise.

It was an exercise of pure will to tamp his expression down to one of polite curiosity as Charles looked at him with concern.

“Yes.  It was an invitation to Sailor Moon to meet at a local shopping mall to discuss their relationship.  To talk about how it might evolve in light of the feelings he had expressed in the letter.”

“ _What.”_

In response Charles reached into his pocket and passed Erik the letter.  He opened it and read it, and then used all his self-control not to ball it into a wad.  Erik could barely think straight he was so angry.  This…this was unacceptable.  To use his name in such a fashion was...surely Charles wasn’t fooled.

“It’s a fake,” he said at last with some effort and was impressed that his voice had managed to sound impassive.  Under the table, Erik’s nails dug into his palms and the tendons in his hands were beginning to ache from the strain of keeping his fist clenched so tightly.

“Well, of course it’s a fake,” Charles responded with a roll of his eyes.

Erik’s shoulders dropped and his hand uncurled.  Thank god.  He didn’t think Charles would believe it, but still.  The thought of a love letter supposedly written by him being used to lure Charles into a trap (because it obviously was one) was unbearable.

“But still,” Charles said speculatively, fiddling with one of Erik’s captured pawns, “there are several people I know who are planning to go to the rendezvous.  Curiosity, you understand.”

 “Are you planning on going Charles?” Erik asked, trying to keep his expression impassive.

“Of course not.  Does that sound like something I would do?”

Charles’ face was fixed in a familiar expression.  Erik’s stomach dropped.  He knew that face.  That was the face that came out whenever Sailor Moon was faced with civilians in the line of battle and chose to put himself at risk in order to spare them even the smallest injury.

 _Yes,_ Erik thought to himself as he maneuvered his queen to protect his king, _it sounds exactly like something you would do._

Erik went to the mall that night, and what he heard from several stories up as he boarded the elevator was enough to make him chuckle.

“Really?” Charles asked.  “Really?  You honestly thought I would believe this?  The letter was bad enough, but this?  You seriously expected me to believe you were him just because you put on a tuxedo and a mask?  This plan was not very well thought out.”

By the time the elevator doors opened, the situation had changed entirely.  Azazel, a Dark Kingdom general from what information Erik had gathered during their encounters, stood laughing at the other end of the concourse.  Charles (alone, the _fucking_ moron) was sprawled on the floor, reaching for his tiara.  Between the two, a giant blue lion was poised to leap.

The rose was in the air before Erik realized he had thrown it, and hit the lion squarely in the forehead, driving it back long enough for Charles to regain his footing.

“Who’s there?” Azazel called out, visibly frustrated at the interruption.

“You used my name on a fake love letter to draw Sailor Moon out.  If you thought I would let that pass unaddressed, you clearly don’t know much at all,” Erik answered him, leaning against the elevator door and using one leg to keep it propped open.

Now that he had spoken though, he adjusted his stance, placing both feet on the floor and leaping forward, placing himself between Sailor Moon and their adversaries.

 “Sailor Moon, go now!”

“But…” Charles began.

“This was a trap, planted for you, Sailor Moon.  They were not expecting me.  Now go!”

“Fool!” Azazel called.  “Do you think I would even allow him to escape?”

Erik reached for his cane and took a step, placing himself squarely between Charles and the threat at hand. 

 “Come on, then,” Erik said, flaring his cape dramatically as he withdrew his cane to keep the focus on him and away from Charles.

Azazel ordered the monster to attack, and it obeyed.  Erik heard Charles call out a warning before he shouted the familiar words.  The glow of the tiara shot into Erik’s view before colliding violently with the monster before him and Erik waited for the customary deterioration.

It never came.

“Sailor Moon, get in the elevator!” Erik called, retreating himself, but at a rate that allowed him to cover Charles’ exit.

He did, thank god.  And then they were shooting upwards so that they could plummet back down to their deaths, just as Azazel had planned.

Erik turned to tell Charles what he planned to do, only to find that the other man had already kicked open the service hatch and was standing on top of the elevator, holding a hand down to Erik.

“Come on.  Unless you were eager to experience the effects of free fall from ten stories?”

Erik took Charles’ hand and pulled himself up, nodding his thanks.  The less he spoke around Charles, the better his chances of not being identified.  The mask could only do so much.

The elevator reached its peak and they leapt, Erik’s heart stopping in his chest when Charles missed the handhold.  He reached, desperate, and grabbed, thanking a god he didn’t believe in when he felt Charles’ wrist between his fingers.

With some maneuvering, they eventually ended up with Charles' weight more evenly distributed across his back.

“Talk about something,” Erik told him, his muscles burning already.  “Distract me.”

“Why do you rescue me?” Charles asked.  “I know you once said you owed me a thank you, but clearly you have more than made due.  So, why?”

“It’s simple, really.  The idea of you hurt is…not something I care to contemplate.  So I simply refuse to allow it to happen.”

It struck Erik rather suddenly that he had felt exactly the same way about the Prince in his dream, however long ago that had been.  He almost lost his grip at the enormity of the thought.

Erik had known he was attracted to Charles, had known he enjoyed his company but this…this had completely blindsided him.

It wasn’t betrayal, Erik reasoned to himself that night as he searched for sleep, after they had been rescued by Charles’ comrades.   Falling in love now didn’t mean he had forgotten what he was fighting for.  He would honor the Prince’s memory, fight for what they had lost.  But that loss shouldn’t keep him from being happy now.  He remembered enough about his love to know that he wouldn’t want that.

If the moon prince had been reborn, matters would be different.  But with things as they were now, surly he could not be blamed for acting on his feelings?

_The mist obscures everything, and the only light comes from the moon, but the man is standing in such a way that all Erik can see is his silhouette.  It is more than enough._

_“Please,” he begs, “who are you?”_

_“The Legendary Silver Crystal,” the Prince responds, his tone desperate._

_“Why can’t I remember?”_

_“The Legendary Silver Crystal.  Please!”_

Erik woke with a gasp and a heavy feeling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took forever, but I really hope that you guys are happy with the end result. I am so sorry about skipping over recruiting Mars, but with this chapter being Erik's POV there wasn't very much I could do. All will be explained in Charles' chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have another chapter at long, long last. And unfortunately, due to the RBB, it's going to be the last chapter for quite some time. I'm so sorry, and thank you all for your patience.
> 
> Since last update though, there has been some wonderful fanart done for this fic, and I just wanted to share it all with you.
> 
> [Miya](http://atelier-dayz.tumblr.com/) drew me [ this ](http://24.media.tumblr.com/fc3c79381eb9d056c2a7b56125370d15/tumblr_ml1xtbFDJF1r04eu1o1_1280.jpg)wonderful piece on a holiday card of Charles and Erik in their past life.
> 
> Sunryder drew [this](http://kenobisunryder.deviantart.com/art/Charles-Xavier-as-Sailor-Moon-328195473) absolutely perfect rendition of Charles as Sailor Moon, which everyone should go heap praise upon.
> 
> As for this chapter, I have never had anything happen to my ribs, so I was mostly making it up as I went along. Additionally, a warning for allusions to past child abuse has been added to the tags and applies to this chapter, though the allusion in question is breif and subtle-ish. And as usual, apologies for the numerous mistakes I'm sure are littered throughout.

Charles reached out to grab his tiara and only just managed to bite back a curse at the sharp pain that pierced his side.  Apparently the enemy’s attack had clipped him a little harder than he had suspected.  Now that he was paying attention, he realized that his difficulty breathing was not a result of overexertion, as he had initially thought, but pain.  Ribs then, he concluded.

Gritting his teeth, he took as deep a breath as he could manage before replacing the tiara on his head and doing his best to school his expression.  There was no way he would be able to maintain a normal expression and pretend he was uninjured.  He was in far too much pain for that.  What he could do was downplay exactly how bad the injury was, at least for now.  There was no reason to worry his teammates unduly.  Especially since he’d been pushing Sailor Mars out of the way when he’d gotten the injury.  He didn’t want the newest scout blaming herself for something that wasn’t her fault.

Raven came over and clapped a hand to his shoulder as she laughed, and it took everything Charles had not to cry out.  He offered her a weak smile instead as she celebrated their victory.

Good.  The responsibility weighing on her and Hank was already far, far too much.  No need to give them any additional burdens when the hand they had been dealt was already so poor.  He would spare them anything and everything he could.  He’d already done enough harm.

They had transformed back into their everyday clothes and were about to part ways for their various homes when Hank’s phone buzzed.  He pulled it out, brow furrowing in confusion before smoothing over as his eyebrows arched upwards, eyes widening in surprise behind his glasses.

“Guys…” he said, fingers tapping furiously against the screen, “Tuxedo Mask…he’s just robbed a jewelry store.”

Charles froze, staring at him.  “It must be an impostor.  Tuxedo Mask would ne…”

Hank turned the screen to face him, showing a video of a figure Charles would recognize anywhere calmly and systematically breaking glass and taking jewelry before vanishing into the night.

Charles tried not to scream as Moira alighted on his shoulder, the cat peering intently at the screen.  Thankfully she was so intent on the video that she didn’t notice the pained exhale that Charles allowed himself.

“This…” she said, “this changes things.  We need to find a place to talk.  Now.”

* * *

 

The last time Charles had been in the shop, simply called _Destiny’s_ , it had been before Raven had been a Scout, and the entire place had been filled with an almost tangible aura of anxiety and darkness.  With the Dark Kingdom’s influence routed, the shop, which had struck Charles as sinister the first time around, now seemed warm and welcoming.  The lingering smell of incense and the overhead light reflecting off gemstones and crystals loosening something that had been wound tight for what felt like years most days.

Raven ushered them over to a secluded corner where Charles had seen the store’s owner, Irene, conduct readings during his investigation.  He carefully eased himself down into one of the armchairs that were gathered in a cluster around the table, doing his best not to breath too deeply, and he was grateful to discover that it was as comfortable as it had looked.

Moira jumped up onto the table gracefully, situating herself at one end and wrapping her tail neatly around her paws before meeting their questioning gazes with a serious stare.

“It had been my hope to gather you all together before doing this, but circumstances being what they are, this can’t wait.”

Charles shifted straighter in his chair, though he regretted it momentarily, barely holding in a wheeze of pain.  Moira had thus far been fairly circumspect in sharing information.  It was one of the most frustrating parts of the situation.  While he wouldn’t go so far as to say he enjoyed fighting off monsters, he at least understood the necessity.  What had him tearing out his hair during the day and staring restlessly up at his ceiling the few times he did manage to make it into bed was the lack of any sort of explanation.  Who their enemies were, why they wanted the energy they did, why he and the other Scouts were chosen, how Tuxedo Mask fit into the picture.  He wasn’t so naive as to expect answers to all the questions, but any information would have gone a long way. As it was, he had practically nothing to work with.

Even with that cryptic statement, Charles already knew more than he had before.  There were still other scouts missing, ones that Moira was actively looking for.  This implied that there was some specific criteria she had in mind.  Perhaps even specific people she was attempting to locate?  That seemed much more likely.  Charles couldn’t imagine what could have made him eligible to be a scout, let alone what would make him qualified to lead them.  The only advantages he had at the moment were age and a few weeks more experience.  Still, if it was specific people Moira was looking for, it once again brought him back to the question of qualifications.  Why had they, of all people, been determined to be scouts?

Under any other circumstances, he would have given voice to these questions, and the multitude of others he was dying to have answered.  As it was, he could barely _sit_ with wheezing in pain, let alone _talk_.  The unfairness of the situation was almost more than he could handle.

“You are already familiar with one of your duties as Sailor Soldiers, namely protecting earth from the forces of the Dark Kingdom.  But there are other responsibilities you have as well.  Namely the protection of the prince.  You are his guardians, above all else.”

“Prince?” Raven asked, eyes alight with interest.  She was still new enough at this that she found the whole thing exciting.  “What prince?”

“Millennia ago,” Moira began, her eyes going distant, “there was a kingdom on the moon.  The moon kingdom was a place of beauty and splendor, and the long-lived people there watched over and aided those on earth.  Much of my memory of this place and time has been lost,” Moira said, her ears drooping in sadness, “but the prince of this kingdom was well loved, and was guarded over by the Sailor Soldiers.  When the dark kingdom attacked, the queen used the power of the Silver Crystal to seal them away.  Using the last of her power, she sent the prince and his guardians to be reborn on earth in the future, hoping that there they might find happiness.”  She looked up, meeting all their eyes, her expression grave.  “You are those guardians, awakened once again.  We must fight the Dark Kingdom.  We must find the Silver Crystal so that they might once again be defeated.  But above all else, we must find and protect the prince.”

“Silver Crystal?” Hank asked, eyes alight with interest even as his face was furrowed in serious thought.

“Yes.  The Legendary Silver Crystal.  It alone, when in the right hands, has the power to defeat our enemy.  But in the wrong hands, the crystal’s power could be devastating.  And with much of my memory missing…the crystal might be the only way to find and locate the prince.”

“Tuxedo Mask,” Charles said, putting the pieces together and finding the strength to voice his thought despite his pain.  “You think he’s looking for the crystal.”

“Yes,” Moira said.  “Which is why, from this point forward, we must consider Tuxedo Mask our enemy.”

* * *

 

When Charles finally slipped the right key into the lock after more false starts than he really cared to think about, he couldn’t help but let out a small sob of relief.  He regretted it immediately, as it only served to exacerbate the deep ache in his side, flaring up into sharp pain momentarily before fading once again to an ache in the background.  He would have cursed, but data was beginning to show that the exercise would be counterproductive.  Instead he gritted his teeth and took care to breathe shallowly as he pushed the door open and stepped into his apartment.

The pile of mail just inside the door had accumulated to the point where Charles nearly slipped on a letter in his attempt to step over it.  He hadn’t been back to his apartment in almost two weeks, his duties as a Scout and responsibilities as a grad student making more than a quick nap on the couch in the lab unthinkable most nights, and the questions that chased themselves around in his brain made sleep impossible the rest. Charles had learned that devoting himself to other distractions was a much better use of his time.  Charles was grateful that with everything else going on in his life at least money would never be a pressing concern.  It was nice to know that no matter how much time he spent running around the city in shorts or trapped his lab trying desperately to work everything out, he would always have a bed waiting for him, for all that he almost never had the chance to see it.

Under normal circumstances, Charles would have gathered his mail.  As it was, he left it piled as it had been behind him as he made his way carefully to the kitchen.  He winced when he opened the freezer, but he knew in the long run that the bag of frozen peas (kept for exactly this purpose, Charles _hated_ peas, but they made an excellent cold compress) would make the effort worth it.  He pressed the peas against his side as he made his way into the dining room, grabbing his laptop awkwardly with one hand from where it sat charging on his kitchen table.  He didn’t think he’d be getting up for quite some time once he finally made it into bed.

Charles managed to make it into his bedroom and into bed without incident, shedding his shoes before he climbed in, peas and laptop placed by his pillow.  That accomplished, he took a deep breath before undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and carefully pulling it off and tossing it on the floor.  Emboldened by his success, he gripped the hem of his undershirt and yanked it up only to freeze in pain before it was even halfway off.  Lesson learned, he finished pulling it up and over his head with far more care before letting it fall to the floor.

Charles steeled himself mentally before looking down at the injury.  The area was red and inflamed, and while every breath hurt, it didn't look as if the attack had broken the skin and nothing seemed visibly out of place, and while breathing was painful, it wasn't unbearably so.  That established, Charles once again held the frozen peas to his side before flipping his laptop open and pecking in a search on google one-handed.  The results were encouraging.  He didn’t seem to have any of the symptoms of a broken rib, which was a relief.  If his ribs really were just bruised or cracked, as he suspected, and not broken, he would probably be more than fine taking care of the injury on his own.  He wasn't sure he wanted to risk trying to get medical attention for any injuries he sustained as Sailor Moon, unsure how to explain any of the more exotic consequences that might occur as the result of an enemy attack.  That established, Charles took the required deep breath and waited for the pain to subside before starting his next search.

Charles read over the information carefully, looking for some sign that Hank had been incorrect in his initial assessment, or that Moira was mistaken in the conclusions she had drawn.  But the more he read, the more he was forced to admit that the evidence supported them.  The only new information that had come to light since Hank had first received his Google Alert a little over an hour ago was a description of the stones that had been stolen, and those only seemed to confirm Moira’s suspicions surrounding Tuxedo Mask.  Everything sounded like it might plausibly be considered a candidate for the Silver Crystal.

Charles shut his laptop with far more force than usual before rubbing his temples, trying to calm himself down and head off the headache that was building.  Tuxedo Mask was not their enemy.  Charles was sure of that; he knew it in his bones.  The man had done nothing but help them…help _him_ , from the start.

Charles sat up straight, ignoring the pain in his side in favor of the epiphany he had just had.  That first night, when Charles had asked him why he had helped, and Eri…Tuxedo Mask had told him to consider it a thank you.  _“For something you don’t remember.  And something I’m trying to.”_

Tuxedo Mask was from the past as well.  And, more to the point, he seemed to recall something of that past life.  Clearly he was not a Scout, or Moira would have recognized him.  He wasn’t an enemy, given the hatred he had for the Dark Kingdom.  A hatred Charles was now starting to suspect was rooted in the past, as was, he thought, Tuxedo Mask’s search for the crystal.  So who was Tuxedo Mask, or…more accurately and more importantly…who had he been?  And why did he need the Silver Crystal?

If only Charles could _ask_ the man to explain his behavior, some things might come to light.  But in costume, the man was nearly impossible to pin down and ask for explanations.

Out of costume though....that was another matter entirely.  But with Charles' ribs as they were he'd be unable to confront the man he had long suspected of being behind the mask.  He'd have to call in sick to the university tomorrow because of his injury, which rankled far more than it should.  This meant he would also miss his chess match with Erik.

Unless he invited the man to house.  He'd have a much better chance of actually getting an honest answer out of him if he wasn't worried about anyone overhearing their conversation.  And there were some questions Charles wouldn’t feel comfortable asking him without anyone else around.  Questions about what Moira had just revealed.  Questions about why exactly it was that Erik did what he did.  Questions about what this new development meant for Charles and Erik.  Questions about if there was any impact this development had at all.  Questions, perhaps, about if there was anything to impact in the first place.

Charles opened his laptop again long enough to compose and send a brief message to the head of his research group as well as the professors he TA’d for, explaining in very general terms that he wouldn’t be able to make it in the next day because of an injury.  That done, Charles shut his laptop once again and placed it carefully on the nightstand beside his bed before placing his phone on top of it, being sure to set his alarm.  He wouldn't be going into work it was true, but he did need to pin down Erik, the sooner the better.  Charles spared a brief moment to regret that he hadn't grabbed painkillers before making his way into his room, as he was already regretting it, but there was no way he was going to get up now.  Removing the frozen peas, he placed them on the floor before gingerly rolling over to lay on his injured side, as the website had suggested.  Taking a deep breath, again at the website's urging, he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep despite the pain in his side and the staggering number of questions whirling through his mind.

* * *

Exhaustion had won out in the end, and Charles slept that night, for all it was not a sound sleep.  Still, a night of tossing and turning between several hours sleep was still far, far better than he usually faired.  Dragging himself out of bed at ten the next morning, he made his way slowly to the kitchen, depositing his frozen peas back in the freezer and switching them out in favor of corn.  That done, he grabbed his charger and plugged it into the outlet closest to the couch before heading back to his room to retrieve his laptop, his phone, and his communicator (for all that the other scouts almost always texted before using the technology Moira had provided them with, he still always liked to have it on hand).  He took a short detour to the bathroom to grab a bottle of ibuprofen on his way back to the living room before settling down on the couch, where he was determined to remain for the rest of the day.  Charles could only pray that no situation would arise that needed his abilities as a Scout.

He placed the corn on his side and opened the bottle of pills, grimacing when he realized he’d forgotten a glass of water.  Swallowing them dry would be no problem, but it always left an unpleasant taste in the back of his throat.  Still, that seemed a far better prospect than getting up to get a glass of water, and so he took out two pills and tossed them into his mouth before throwing back his head to swallow.  He replaced the cap and set the pills within reach before grabbing his laptop and flipping it open.  The tab he still had open about treating bruised ribs.  Scanning the tips again, he steeled himself before taking a deep breath.  Every few minutes was out of the question, he thought, but he could certainly manage once an hour, if not more.

Charles opened a new tab and repeated his search from the night before, hoping perhaps new information had been recovered, but not at all confident that it had been.  It was therefore with more that mild surprise that he discovered he had been incorrect.  He clicked on the first link and read, a smile spreading over his face.  The jewels, it seemed, had been returned, though how the thief had managed it given the crackdown in security as a result of the robbery was anyone’s guess. Still, for all Charles was grateful that his knowledge of Tuxedo Mask's character had borne out in the end, this didn't change the central issue.  In fact, it only seemed to loan it more credence.  Tuxedo Mask was looking for something specific, and he hadn't found it.

Charles left his laptop open and placed it beside him on the couch, reaching out instead for his phone.  Scrolling through his contacts to Erik's number, he began to compose his message.  He didn't want it to sound too dire (there was no need to worry Erik unnecessarily) and Charles was afraid that if he sounded too unwell Erik would cancel the game altogether, which was exactly the last thing he needed at this moment.  Yet he still needed to make it clear that Erik would have to come to him, as Charles really didn't think he could make it very far off the couch at this point.  He tried several drafts before he found one he was satisfied with, and sent it off with a nervous churning in his gut.

The response was so quick that Charles' didn't have long to live with his anxiety.  Erik agreed and asked if there was anything he needed to make himself more comfortable, as well as asking for Charles' address, which he had neglected to included in the first text.  Feeling foolish, Charles quickly pecked out a response with his address and assuring Erik he had everything he needed.  This wasn't precisely true, but he didn't want to explain to Erik why he needed an ace bandage when he'd described himself as feeling "a bit under the weather".  Besides, hopefully it wouldn’t be an issue, as Charles would only need it in an emergency.

His reluctance to tell Erik about the true nature of his injury was twofold.  For one, Charles hated appearing vulnerable. He hated it with all his being.  In his childhood, such displays had never ended well, and the necessity of self-reliance had carried itself over into his adult life.  The other reason was not for himself, but for Erik's sake.  Tuxedo Mask had often reiterated his desire to protect Charles from harm, especially from harm brought to him by their enemies.  And even if Charles had missed his guess (which he doubted, but at the same time, there was no concrete proof, per se, and he was only 85% certain at the moment, leaving wishful think up as a large margin of error) and if Erik was not Tuxedo Mask despite Charles’ strong suspicions, he still had the tendency to fret over Charles’ physical well being.  Erik had never reacted well to an injury of Charles’ he had seen, and Charles highly doubted that the worst one yet would be the exception to this rule.  Best to keep it to himself and play the entire thing off as a cold, for both their sakes.

He occupied the several hours he had free before their usual agreed upon chess time by doing what research he could.  He looked into legends and folklore about the moon, trying to see if anything might line up with what Moira had told them the night before or, even better, help spark his own memory of his past life.  When that yielded no results, he moved instead onto information about past lives and tricks for recounting them.  Most of the techniques were beyond him at the moment, but he did bookmark several pages for later.  Charles was sick of not having answers, and if he had to go deep inside his own head in order to find them in a process that had every scientific piece of him protesting, well, then, he was going to do it.  Magic was, after all, science they simply didn't yet understand.

When he had accomplished all he felt he could on that front, Charles next turned his attention instead to the Legendary Silver Crystal, trying search after search on variations of the description Moira had given them about the item in question.  He had just stumbled across a news article that seemed promising when there was a sharp rap on the door.  Charles swore at himself.  When he’d been making his plans not to move for the rest of the day, he’d completely forgotten that for all that he’d managed to bring the mountain to Mohammed, Erik couldn’t get in unless Charles got up to let him do so.

“Coming!” Charles called out as loud as he could manage with his diminished breath support before taking a few moments to mentally shore himself up for what was to come.

He carefully heaved himself up off the couch, biting his lip in order to keep his small noises of pain from escaping, and to distract himself form the ache in his side with something sharper and more manageable.  Once he was again vertical, things were far easier, and he managed to make it into the entryway with relatively little discomfort (relatively being the key term).  The obstacle course that was the pile of mail on his floor was slightly more difficult, but he managed to make it to the door without incident.

Charles grimaced at himself when he saw that he had forgotten to lock the door the night before, but as no one had broken the night before and he’d been a bit…distracted at the time, he was willing to cut himself a break on this particular occasion.  Brushing aside his concerns and making a mental not to be sure to lock up once Erik left that afternoon, he pulled open the door.

Erik stood in the doorway, clad in a tight black turtleneck and a pair of khaki pants, crisp creases from their ironing still visible, and Charles’ mouth went dry as he was struck with a visceral urge of _want_.

“Erik!”  Charles managed to squeak out after what was surely far too long spent staring, but he just hoped that Erik wouldn’t notice.  “Come in, my friend,” he said, stepping out of the doorway and gesturing Erik inside.  “Mind the mail though.  I’m sorry about the mess, but…” Charles wasn’t willing to admit how long it had been since he had been home, knowing there was no good way for Erik to interpret that information.  He was struck by sudden inspiration. “…the cat knocked over the pile last night, and I didn’t notice until just now.”

Erik’s eyebrow arched, but he crossed the obstacle easily with one long stride.  That accomplished, he glanced around and his eyes brows only seemed to rise higher.

“Sorry about the mess,” Charles said, “but I’ve been busy.  Now, the living room is just through there,” he said, gesturing, “so why don’t you go make yourself comfortable and I’ll grab us the chess board and something to drink.  I have coffee, tea, some juices…or maybe you’d prefer something harder?”

“Charles,” Erik cut him off, staring down at him sternly.  “You will do none of those things.  You’re ill.  _You_ will go sit down and make yourself comfortable while I fetch the chessboard and the drinks and anything else you might need.”

Charles opened his mouth to object, but the glare Erik favored him with had him holding up his hands in surrender and smiling sheepishly.  If this was Erik when he thought Charles had a cold, well…the idea of what Erik might do if he were made aware of the true nature of Charles’ injury was daunting.  Charles vowed to keep that information to himself.

“The chessboard is in that cupboard down the hall,” Charles said, pointing to the door in question, “and the drinks are in the kitchen.  Tea and coffee are on the counter, juice is in the fridge, and the alcohol is out in the living room.”

“Good to know.  Now, you go _sit down_ in the living room in question,” Erik said, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding in its direction.

Charles did, being sure to keep his stride as normal as possible, knowing Erik was watching.  It was only when he had crossed in front of the wall that blocked him from the hallway and heard Erik’s steps begin to retreat down the hallway that he allowed himself a brief pause to try and deal with his pain.  But it did have to be brief.  The trek to the closet was by no means a long one, and even if Erik had to dig for the board it would really only be a matter of moments before he returned.

Charles settled himself on his couch once again, and, when he had his breathing back under control, he set about clearing off space on the coffee table for Erik to set up the board.  He felt terrible about it, but he’d have to make Erik resituate the armchair himself.  That done, he settled back against the cushions and tried to figure out how to best approach the conversation he knew they needed to have.  “ _Oh, by the way, are you Tuxedo Mask?  If yes, would you mind explaining to me how exactly you got into the masked fighting business and also, by-the-by, are you a reincarnated being from the distant past who live on the moon?  And would you be a dear and tell me why exactly it is you’re looking for the sliver crystal?  That_ is _why you robbed the jewelry store last night, isn’t it?_   That would go over perfectly, he was sure.

Charles sighed, remembering his ribs too late.  He winced and his arm flew automatically to his side as his face twisted into a grimace at the pain.  There was a sharp inhalation followed by the unmistakable sound of a box full of small things being tossed onto a shelf.  Charles jerked his head up to find Erik standing in the arch between the living room and the hallway, the box of chess having been tossed onto one of the numerous bookshelves that lined the room.  Erik's eyes darted around the room as his long strides ate up the space between them before he came to a stop before Charles.

"Just 'under the weather'?" Erik asked, his eyes tense and his voice filled with barely restrained emotion.  "Tell me Charles, since when does a cold require a cold compress and pain relievers?" he asked sharply, pointing to the objects in question still sitting on the couch.

The accusing tone in his voice set Charles' teeth on edge, but he did his best to keep himself in check.

"Let me see," Erik said, and it wasn't a request but a demand.

Charles, knowing there was no way he could talk himself out of this and being well aware that Erik was too suborn to back off unless his demands were satisfied, reached slowly for the hem of his shirt.  He carefully pulled the material up out of the way until the area in question was exposed.

The sharp curse Erik barked out in what sounded like German as he sank to his knees to get a better look had Charles glancing down in curiosity as well.  He didn't see what the fuss was about.  The area was still red and irritated as a result of whatever force it was he had been hit with, but the swelling had gone down somewhat.  Erik's reaction seemed far more dramatic than was necessary.

Erik stared at the area for some time, before he looked back up at Charles, his expression one of barely checked anger.  “How did this happen?” he demanded.

And that was the final straw.

"Well, if you'd been there last night instead of out robbing a jewelry store you'd know, wouldn't you?" Charles snapped.

Erik's eyes went wide and he rocked back as if Charles' words had landed a physical blow.  The anger bled away leaving surprise and a guilt so strong that it made Charles long to take the words back, take Erik in his arms and whisper that it was alright, that it wasn’t his fault. 

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, voice soft and probably betraying far more than he wanted it to.  “That wasn’t fair.  Or even remotely true. My temper’s a little short at the moment, and I’m just having some difficulty processing things.  Forgive me?” he asked, reaching out and placing a hand under Erik’s chin and lifting until Erik met his eyes.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Erik said, taking Charles’ hand in his own before bringing  it up to his lips and pressing a kiss against the back of his hand, eyes never leaving Charles’.

The scene seemed to ripple, and Charles was still staring into those same eyes, had those same lips pressed against his hand, but there was a layer of fabric between skin and mouth, his silver gloved hand clasped firmly in Erik’s black gloved one, a cape in the same color hanging from those broad shoulders, his well-fitted maroon shirt, detailed in silver, serving to emphasis those shoulders in comparison to his narrow waist.  The grass under his knees was incredibly green, and the sword belted to his side over a metal sash of sorts brushed the ground.

Charles shook his head sharply and the vision cleared, leaving Erik in his kakis and turtleneck kneeling on Charles’ dark blue carpet, worry gaining ground fast on shock and chagrin in Erik’s gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked sharply.

“I’m fine.  Just an…odd sense of deja vu.”

Erik was still staring up at him in concern, but after making a careful study of Charles’ face he said nothing, releasing Charles hand and standing up.

“There’s a conversation you and I clearly need to have,” he said.  “But there’s a call I need to make first.  And that,” he said gesturing to the thawed bag of corn sitting limply on the couch “looks like it needs refreshing.”

Charles gave him a wan grin.  “There are some peas in the fridge.  They should have refrozen by now.”

Erik reached out to grab the corn, bringing his face right up in front of Charles’ in the process.  Erik froze as he realized what had happened, his breath puffing hot against Charles’ skin.  Eyes fixed on Erik’s, Charles reached a hand upwards, bringing it to rest on Erik’s cheek, rubbing his thumb across Erik’s sharp cheekbone.  His breath caught in his throat when he felt Erik lean into the touch.  Charles leaned forward slowly until their noses were just barely brushing, gaze still locked on Erik’s.  There was hesitation in his eyes, but even stronger than that was the almost palpable longing.  Taking as deep a breath as he dared, Charles tilted his head and closed what little space remained between them, pressing his lips against Erik’s.

As soon as he had, images flashed across his vision. _Himself, standing at a beautiful balcony staring up at the earth longingly.  Kneeling in flowerbeds as a shadow blocks the sun.  Erik staring down at him, offering a hand, and then a smile and a rose.  Erik staring up at him, his head pillowed in Charles’ lap as he offers the same again.  A series of kisses, locations and length changing but his partner and the feelings behind them always, always the same.  A desperate embrace in front of the palace on the moon.  And that same beloved face, staring down in disbelieving horror while Charles reaches out, ignoring the pain in favor of telling him one last time before everything begins to fade away._

He jerked away, gasping despite the pain.  Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn’t wipe them away, still overwhelmed by the images that had just flashed through his mind.

Still overwhelmed by the memories.

Erik reached out with a trembling hand, his expression one of almost devastated hope as he wiped Charles’ tears away, ignoring those that Charles could still see streaming down his face.  “It’s _you_ ,” he whispered hoarsely.  “My god, it’s _you_.”  Erik let out a wet laugh as he pressed his forehead against Charles’.  “Of course it’s you.  Do you have any idea,” he asked, reaching out to brush Charles’ hair out of his face, and Charles relished the gentle brush of those long fingers against his skin, “how long I’ve been looking for you?”

His palm came up to cup Charles’ cheek, and Charles closed his eyes and leaned into the touch as brought his own hand up against Erik’s own.  “I’m right here,” he said, opening his eyes and giving Erik a watery smile of his own.

“Yes you are.  My god, you are.  You’re right here.”

Erik bent down to kiss him again, and this time it was just Erik and Charles and not whoever they had once been.  This time was just for them.


End file.
